“Either Mom Lives With Us or We Divorce,” My Husband Gave Me an Ultimatum. I Nodded — and Chose the Second Option Right in Front of Her
By evening, my mother-in-law arrived at our place with two suitcases. She had already sold her apartment and given the money to her younger son, while Viktor was convinced that after that I would have no choice but to give in. He was wrong about one thing: he knew me too well, and still decided I would be afraid to lose our marriage.
The phone rang at eight twenty in the morning, just as I was putting on my coat.
When I saw Lidia Pavlovna’s name, I actually stopped. My mother-in-law hated early phone calls and never bothered anyone herself before ten. She usually said that working people had enough reasons to be irritated in the morning without relatives adding to them.
I answered.
“Lenochka, what time will you be back today?” Lidia Pavlovna asked in an unusually businesslike tone. “I need to work out the timing so I’m not sitting in the entrance hall with my suitcases. Denis will order a car, but the driver won’t wait long.”
I slowly took my bag off my shoulder.
“Lidia Pavlovna, let’s start with the suitcases. Where exactly are you going?”
My mother-in-law gave a short laugh, as though the question amused her.
“That Viktor. I told him yesterday, ‘Explain everything properly to Lena so there won’t be any shocked faces later.’ Of course he didn’t. I’m moving in with you today. I think I’ll be there around seven in the evening.”
I looked at the closed bedroom door, as though Viktor might somehow magically be home and walk out of it with a reasonable explanation.
“Sorry, did I understand you correctly? Are you coming to stay with us for a few days, or are you talking about moving in permanently?”
There was a brief pause on the other end.
“What difference does it make what we call it?” suspicion entered my mother-in-law’s voice. “Permanently, of course. I sold my apartment. I gave the buyers the keys yesterday and transferred the money to Denis. I have nowhere to go back to now, and no reason to.”
I put my car keys back on the cabinet.
“You sold your apartment?”
“Lena, don’t use that tone as if I lost it in a card game,” Lidia Pavlovna replied irritably. “I helped my younger son. Denis has two children and a mortgage. They’ve needed a bigger apartment for a long time. And I was living alone in a three-room apartment. What sense did that make?”
“There can be all kinds of logic behind that. I’m trying to understand something else. Where were you planning to live after selling it?”
Now my mother-in-law clearly didn’t understand what I was getting at.
“With you. Vitya said your small room is almost empty. We’ll put my things there. There’s already a sofa. I won’t get in your way.”
By “small room,” she meant my office.
It contained my desk, printer, shelves with documents, and a fold-out sofa for guests. Once, Lidia Pavlovna had spent the night on it after a family celebration, and ever since then she had apparently considered my office to be an almost unused bedroom.
“Did Viktor tell you that you would be living here permanently?” I asked again.
“He said everything had been decided,” she replied more coldly now. “And if you’re about to explain that I should have received a written invitation first, let’s not start that first thing in the morning. We’re family.”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking. When a family decides to move another adult into an apartment forever, usually they ask the people who already live in that apartment what they think.”
“I’m not ‘another adult.’ I’m his mother.”
“That doesn’t stop you from being a separate person, Lidia Pavlovna. And it doesn’t stop me from being one either.”
She exhaled loudly.
“I knew you’d start picking at words. Denis needs the money now. I sold my apartment voluntarily. Viktor suggested a perfectly reasonable solution. You have enough space. Or do you want a seventy-two-year-old woman to rent a room from strangers while her son lives in a two-room apartment?”
Now the conversation had finally moved onto familiar tracks. The moment I said, “That doesn’t work for me,” the discussion somehow became a question of my morality.
“I want decisions about my home not to be made behind my back,” I replied. “And I also want to understand why you sold your apartment before speaking to me.”
My mother-in-law fell silent.
“Because Vitya said there wouldn’t be any problems.”
“Then Viktor is exactly who I’m going to speak to now.”
“Speak to him,” she permitted dryly. “But Lena, I really have already handed over the keys. No one is giving me the apartment back. I’ll arrive at seven. You and your husband sort things out by then because I have no intention of participating in your marital arguments.”
“That’s strange, Lidia Pavlovna. The decision was made without me, yet the family argument only begins when I finally learn about its consequences.”
My mother-in-law was silent for another couple of seconds.
“I’ll be there at seven,” she repeated and hung up.
I called Viktor immediately.
He answered after the fifth ring.
“Len, I’m parking the car. If this is about the grocery list, text it to me. I’m already going to be late for a meeting.”
“Your mother is moving in with us today.”
This pause was completely different.
He knew exactly what had happened.
“Mom already called you?”
“Yes, Viktor. And I have to admit, she was very informative. The apartment has been sold, the keys handed over, the money is with Denis, and the suitcases are arriving this evening. There’s just one tiny detail left for me to learn: at what point were you planning to tell your wife?”
He sighed heavily.
“I wanted to explain everything in person tonight. Things like this aren’t discussed over the phone.”
“But apparently they can be decided without a phone and without the wife.”
“Lena, don’t start. No one is selling your apartment.”
I actually took the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen.
“How convenient. So as long as no one is selling my apartment, everything else counts as a minor detail?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then explain it in your own words. Did you promise your mother she could live here permanently?”
“I said we wouldn’t abandon her,” Viktor replied irritably. “She’s helping Denis. Denis has children and a mortgage. They really need that money right now. Mom is alone. We have two rooms. I don’t understand where you see a catastrophe.”
“There isn’t a catastrophe yet. There’s just an adult man who decided who would live in his wife’s apartment but forgot to ask his wife.”
“Here we go again with ‘my wife’s apartment.’ We’ve lived here together for seven years. Seven years paying utilities, buying things, having guests over. Maybe you could stop pulling out the property certificate every time something doesn’t go your way?”
I looked at the clock. I was already late for work, but now that seemed like the smallest problem of the morning.
“I didn’t pull out any certificate. You remembered it before I did. Probably because you understand perfectly well the difference between ‘we live here together’ and ‘I can move my mother in without asking you.’”
“And if I had asked, would you have agreed?”
“No. I wouldn’t agree to living together permanently.”
“There, you see!” Viktor said almost with relief. “So there wouldn’t have been any real discussion anyway. You were against it from the start.”
“Amazing logic. If someone might answer no, that means there’s no need to ask them at all.”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. You didn’t want a discussion. You wanted agreement. Preferably after everything had already become irreversible.”
His voice became quieter, but that only made the pressure stronger.
“Lena, I can’t tell my mother, ‘Sorry, my wife won’t allow you to live with me.’ Do you understand how that would look? After everything she’s done for us?”
“Then tell her the truth. Say, ‘Mom, I promised you someone else’s consent because I was sure my wife would give in later.’”
“Don’t make me look like an idiot.”
“I’m not making you look like anything. You’re doing an excellent job by yourself.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then his voice hardened.
“Mom is coming today no matter what. She sold the apartment. I’m not sending her to the train station.”
“No one is suggesting the train station. You can pay for a hotel tonight, start looking for a rental tomorrow, or move in with her yourself if you believe that’s the only right solution. But none of that changes my answer about her living here permanently.”
“So you’re suggesting I rent an apartment for my own mother when there’s a free room in this apartment?”
“Free for whom? You? Then move your office, documents, and work there and show me where the free space appears.”
“There’s a sofa in there!”
“Viktor, the presence of a sofa doesn’t turn a room into a hostel. We also have a stool in the bathroom. That doesn’t mean we can move Denis in there.”
He snorted irritably.
“You always have to turn everything into mockery.”
“I have to make sure you hear a normal answer. I do not agree. And I’m telling you now, in the morning, before your mother arrives. So this evening, don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“We’ll sit down together tonight, the three of us, and talk without all these principles of yours.”
“My principles will also be sitting at the table, Viktor. They’re not going anywhere today.”
He hung up.
We didn’t speak again until the evening.
Around four, Lidia Pavlovna sent me a message: “I’ll be there at 18:40. Denis ordered a large car.”
I read it twice.
By six, I was already home.
I hadn’t touched the office. The folders remained on the sofa. The printer was on the cabinet. Work papers were spread across the desk. If Viktor expected me to start clearing out the room myself before his mother arrived, another disappointment was waiting for him.
He appeared around half past six.
He took off his jacket, walked down the hallway, looked into the office, and turned to me.
“You didn’t even fold out the sofa? Mom will be here in twenty minutes.”
“I explained this morning why I’m not preparing a room for her to live in permanently.”
“Lena, can we get through at least one evening without demonstrations? She’s arriving with her belongings. She’s seventy-two.”
I closed the cupboard door.
“It’s interesting that you call the situation you created a demonstration. Especially since you invited the audience yourself.”
“Do you really have to be sarcastic right now?”
“Did you really have to mentally sell your mother’s apartment first, move her into mine second, and leave me with the role of accommodation manager?”
Viktor went into the kitchen, poured himself some water, and came back holding the glass.
“Fine. Let’s say I should have told you sooner. I admit it. But the situation already exists. What are you suggesting we do now?”
“The same thing I suggested this morning. Tell your mother the truth and find another solution.”
“What truth exactly? That my wife doesn’t want to see her in her home?”
“No. That her son made a promise without getting the consent of the person whose home he promised.”
“Again with ‘whose home.’ Are you repeating that deliberately?”
“Yes, because you’re deliberately pretending ownership only matters when it suits you.”
He put the glass down on the cabinet slightly harder than necessary.
“You can work in the bedroom for now. We’ll move the desk. Mom gets the office. After a couple of months we’ll get used to it, and everything will calm down.”
I looked at him.
“How quickly you went from ‘let’s discuss this’ to ‘we’ll move the desk.’ You’re not even talking to me now. You’re issuing orders in a softer voice.”
“I’m trying to find a compromise.”
“A compromise looks different. Something like, ‘Lena, I made a mistake. Let’s think together about how we can help Mom.’ Your version of compromise is: Mom lives here, my office disappears, I get used to it, and you get to call yourself a peacemaker.”
The intercom rang at twenty to seven.
Viktor gave me a heavy look.
“I’m just asking you not to humiliate her.”
“If it really matters to you that she isn’t humiliated, explain to her yourself what you did.”
He pressed the intercom button and went to the door.
A few minutes later, we heard suitcase wheels rattling on the landing.
Lidia Pavlovna came in first. Behind her, the driver carried in a burgundy suitcase and two large bags. Viktor brought in the second suitcase himself.
“Well, finally here,” my mother-in-law said, taking off her coat. “Traffic on Leningradka was terrible again. Good thing Denis ordered the car in advance, otherwise I’d have been stuck on the road until nighttime.”
She spoke cheerfully, but barely looked at me.
I waited until the driver left.
“Lidia Pavlovna, did Viktor tell you about our conversation this morning?”
She slowly turned toward me.
“He said you two had a little disagreement but would settle everything tonight.”
“Then he left out an important part. I clearly told him this morning that I do not agree to you moving in permanently.”
My mother-in-law looked at her son.
“Vitya, why didn’t you tell me that?”
He picked up one of the bags.
“Mom, take your coat off first. There’s no need to have this argument in the hallway.”
“Please put the bag down,” I said. “Until this is resolved, we’re not taking anything into the rooms.”
Viktor turned toward me.
“You’re seriously going to tell me, in front of my mother, where I’m allowed to put her things?”
“I’m seriously suggesting you stop pretending she’s moving in while we’re still discussing whether that is happening at all.”
My mother-in-law removed her scarf but kept her coat on.
“I want to understand what is going on. Lena told me this morning she knew nothing about it. Then you texted me, ‘Don’t worry, everything will be settled.’ I thought you two had spoken.”
“We did speak,” Viktor said through clenched teeth. “Lena just decided to take a principled stand.”
“Don’t hide behind the word ‘principled,’” I said. “You heard my refusal and still brought your mother here with all her belongings. That isn’t called ‘we talked.’ It’s called ‘I decided to try pressuring her again.’”
He dropped the bag onto the floor.
“Why do you always talk as if I’m committing a crime? I want my own mother to live with me!”
“That’s exactly the problem, Viktor. You say ‘with me’ as confidently as if your desire alone were enough.”
Lidia Pavlovna frowned.
“Lena, are you saying you won’t even let me in?”
“No one is putting you out on the street tonight. But I do not agree to you living here permanently. And Viktor has known that since this morning.”
My mother-in-law turned sharply toward her son.
“You told me the issue was settled.”
He shrugged.
“I was sure Lena wouldn’t start a war over one room.”
“So you hadn’t reached an agreement with her?”
“Mom, what difference does it make now? You’re already here.”
Lidia Pavlovna looked at the suitcases, then back at her son.
“It makes a big difference to me. I sold my apartment because you said, ‘Mom, don’t worry, you’ll live with us. Lena won’t object.’”
Viktor grimaced.
“Don’t repeat every word now as though we’re writing a legal transcript.”
“I remember every word very well,” she snapped. “Because after those words, I went and signed the contract.”
I looked at my husband.
“That’s why I asked you this morning to explain everything yourself. You had almost ten hours.”
“And what was I supposed to do? Call my mother after she sold the apartment and say my wife had changed her mind?”
“I didn’t change my mind. I never agreed in the first place.”
“Wonderful!” Viktor raised his voice. “So now everything comes down to this being entirely my fault.”
“No. It comes down to the consequences reaching the person who made the decision.”
My mother-in-law slowly removed her coat and hung it on a hook.
“Fine. Let’s stop shouting. I still want to understand exactly how I would be a burden. I don’t intend to live off you. I have my pension. I know how to clean and cook. I won’t interfere in your lives.”
I turned toward her.
“Lidia Pavlovna, the problem isn’t how much you eat or whether you can wash a floor. I don’t want to live permanently with my mother-in-law. Just as I imagine you wouldn’t dream of living permanently with your daughter-in-law if you had a choice. It isn’t an insult. It’s a boundary.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“And if it were your mother?”
“Then Viktor would have every right to say he didn’t want to live permanently with my mother. And I wouldn’t sell Mom’s apartment before hearing his agreement.”
“It’s easy for you to say that when your mother is already dead,” my mother-in-law said bitterly.
I held her gaze.
“That is exactly why I’m not going to use parents as weapons in an argument. The question now isn’t about who loves whom more. The question is whether one spouse has the right to make decisions for the other.”
Viktor cut in irritably.
“Enough turning this into a lecture about rights. Family sometimes requires sacrifices.”
“Excellent. Name yours.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“You said family requires sacrifices. I give up my office, my personal space, and my ability to live the way I’ve lived for seven years. Your mother gives up her apartment and the money to Denis. What exactly are you giving up?”
“I’m taking responsibility for my mother!”
“No. You distributed the responsibility between me and your mother, while keeping the right to announce the decision for yourself.”
Unexpectedly, my mother-in-law nodded.
“She’s right about that, Vitya. You really did tell me everything had been agreed.”
He turned sharply toward her.
“Mom, don’t start agreeing with Lena now.”
“I’m not agreeing with anyone. I’m trying to understand why I’m standing in someone else’s hallway with two suitcases and hearing for the first time that the owner of the apartment was against it.”
Viktor gave an irritated laugh.
“And now it’s ‘the owner of the apartment.’ Have you both decided to make me look like some kind of freeloader?”
“No one called you that,” I said. “But you’re trying very hard to shift the conversation from what you did to how you supposedly got humiliated.”
He stepped closer.
“Fine. I’ll say it directly. I’ve lived here for seven years. I’m your husband. I’ve put money into this place, bought appliances, done renovations, paid bills. And now it turns out that when something serious happens, I have to come to you begging for permission to let my own mother live with me?”
“No. You were supposed to talk to me as your wife. But for some reason, you decided it would be much more convenient to create a situation with no way out first and then call my refusal heartless.”
“Because I know you!” he snapped. “If we had discussed it in advance, you would have found a hundred reasons to say no.”
“Then why did you marry a woman whose opinion is so inconvenient that it’s easier not to ask for it?”
He fell silent for a second.
Lidia Pavlovna’s gaze moved from him to me.
Viktor ran a hand through his hair and said with poorly concealed irritation:
“I’m not participating in this circus anymore. I’m tired of listening to how I’m supposedly nobody here and have no right to help my mother. So let’s make this simple. Either Mom lives with us, or we get divorced. I don’t see a third option.”
My mother-in-law straightened abruptly.
“Vitya, why did you even say the word ‘divorce’? You’re arguing about housing. Don’t throw your marriage around as if it means nothing.”
But Viktor was looking only at me.
There was such confidence in his eyes that I suddenly understood: he hadn’t lost his temper.
He had calculated it.
The word “divorce” was his final argument. He remembered our seven years together perfectly well. He knew how much we had been through. He knew how hard my separation after my first marriage had been. He knew I valued stability and disliked making drastic decisions.
And that was exactly why he was certain I would back down.
I looked at him and remembered not the bad things.
The opposite.
How after my surgery, he slept in an uncomfortable chair beside my hospital bed for three nights. How he handled my father’s funeral because at the time I could barely remember what day it was. How we once chose a cheap hotel in Kazan and then laughed about the room because the wardrobe door only opened halfway. How he used to send me photos of ridiculous price tags he found in stores.
Seven years could not simply be turned into nothing.
But now Viktor himself had placed those seven years on one side of the scales, expecting them to outweigh my right to say no.
I nodded.
“Fine, Viktor. If you really are leaving me only two options, I choose divorce.”
The confidence disappeared from his face slowly.
“You’re saying that in front of Mom on purpose just to humiliate me?”
“No. You gave me the ultimatum in front of your mother. I simply answered in the same place where the question was asked.”
“Lena, stop it. I’m serious.”
“So am I. Which is why I’m not going to pretend that ‘divorce’ means ‘Get scared and agree with me.’”
He gave a short laugh, but the old confidence was gone from it.
“So you’re ready to destroy seven years of marriage over one room?”
“No. Over the room, we could have argued, looked for alternatives, been angry with each other, and eventually reached an agreement. The marriage is ending because first you made a decision for me, then ignored my direct refusal, and when that didn’t work, you gave me an ultimatum. Don’t shrink what you did down to the size of a sofa.”
My mother-in-law stepped closer to her son.
“Vitya, take those words back. Right now. Say you lost your temper and then start thinking normally about what you’re going to do.”
Viktor pressed his lips together.
“No, Mom. If Lena thinks your moving in matters more than our marriage, then let it be divorce.”
I looked at him.
“You’re changing the meaning again. My refusal was not the condition for divorce. You were the one who made divorce the condition.”
“What difference does it make now?” he replied sharply. “You decided to divorce, so divorce me. Just don’t tell anyone later that I threw you out. You can start packing your things tonight.”
For a moment, I couldn’t believe I had heard him correctly.
Not because he had forgotten who owned the apartment.
He couldn’t have forgotten.
Viktor had simply become so accustomed to thinking of this home as his that in his mind the entire argument was already settled: the wife refused to obey, the wife chose divorce, therefore the wife leaves.
“Which things exactly are you suggesting I pack?” I asked.
He waved his hand irritably.
“Your things, Lena. Clothes, documents, whatever you need. You chose divorce yourself. There’s no reason for us to spend months living under one roof afterward.”
“I agree. I’m just trying to understand where exactly you’re planning to relocate me from my apartment.”
Lidia Pavlovna turned her head toward her son.
“Vitya, actually, why should Lena be the one to leave?”
“Because we’re getting divorced!” he snapped. “Someone has to go.”
“Does someone absolutely have to leave tonight,” I asked, “or should the person who doesn’t own the apartment perhaps first think about where he’s going to live?”
He stared at me heavily.
“Now you’re going to start waving documents in my face?”
“I don’t need to wave anything at you. For seven years, you’ve known that I bought this apartment before we got married. It’s still registered in my name.”
Lidia Pavlovna slowly sat down on the small bench.
“Wait, Vitya. I knew Lena bought the apartment herself. But you always called it ‘our apartment.’ For some reason, I assumed you had transferred the ownership after the wedding or given him a share.”
Viktor spun toward his mother.
“Mom, what difference does it make what the paperwork says now? I’ve lived here seven years. We were a family here.”
I answered before my mother-in-law had a chance.
“We were. But five minutes ago you were the one who suggested changing that. And you were absolutely certain that after your suggestion, I would be the one changing my place of residence.”
He gave an angry laugh.
“Fantastic. Now everything is clear. You were just waiting for this moment so you could finally say, ‘The apartment is mine. Get out.’”
“If I had been waiting for it, I wouldn’t have asked you to stop this morning. You had the entire day. You could have called your mother, booked her a hotel, started looking for housing, and come home this evening saying, ‘I made a mistake.’ Instead, you brought two suitcases here and decided to test just how afraid I was of divorce.”
My mother-in-law slowly looked at her son.
“Vitya, where am I supposed to live now?”
He frowned.
“Mom, I’ll find something. Don’t make a tragedy out of this.”
“I’m not making a tragedy out of anything. I’m asking a very simple question. My apartment is sold. I gave the money to Denis. Apparently I can’t live here. You just decided to get divorced. Where are we going to live?”
“We’ll rent an apartment for a while.”
“With what money?”
He exhaled irritably.
“I have a salary.”
“Vitya, I’m not asking whether you have a job. I’m asking whether you calculated anything at all before promising me someone else’s apartment. Rent, deposit, first month, moving my things. I transferred almost all the money from the sale to Denis because you told me I wouldn’t have housing expenses anymore.”
“Mom, stop discussing our money in front of Lena.”
My mother-in-law looked up at him.
“And who exactly should I discuss it in front of now? The buyers of my apartment? Or should I pretend I came up with the idea myself to sell my home, give away the money, and arrive here with all my belongings?”
He turned away.
Lidia Pavlovna was looking at him very differently now than she had spoken to me that morning.
“You really were sure she would give in,” my mother-in-law said. “That’s why you didn’t ask. You decided it would be enough simply to confront Lena with a fait accompli.”
“I was sure my wife would understand the situation.”
“No,” Lidia Pavlovna replied. “If you had been sure she would understand, you would have told her in advance. You deliberately waited until after I sold the apartment.”
Viktor looked irritably at his mother.
“So now you’ve decided to lecture me too?”
“No. I’m trying to understand why my grown son promised me housing that he had no authority to give me.”
He took out his phone.
“Fine. Enough. I’ll find you a hotel now. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow.”
Lidia Pavlovna narrowed her eyes.
“Us?”
Viktor looked up.
“You. Of course, you.”
She slowly shook her head.
“No, Vitya. If you just announced to your wife that you’re divorcing her and then told her to leave her own apartment, I think you’re not the only person who might need a hotel tonight.”
“Mom, don’t take her side.”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m taking the side of common sense, of which there has been surprisingly little today.”
I turned toward the hallway window and let them finish talking.
This was no longer my argument.
Lidia Pavlovna stood up from the bench, picked up her scarf, and carefully tucked it into her bag.
“I’m not calling Denis,” she said. “The money has already gone toward the down payment. They have two children, and I’m not going to demand it back. We’ll spend tonight in a hotel. Tomorrow we’ll look at rentals.”
Viktor frowned.
“‘We’ll’? Mom, I can at least stay here until tomorrow.”
My mother-in-law stared at him in disbelief.
“After you just told your wife to pack her things? That would look especially dignified. She sleeps in her own bedroom while you make some grand statement by sleeping on the sofa you planned to give me?”
I couldn’t resist.
“Unfortunately, the sofa is still occupied by my folders. But if Viktor really wants to experience the consequences of his decisions tonight, I can move the folders.”
He looked sharply at me.
“Are you enjoying this?”
“No. I finally understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why you didn’t tell me earlier. You didn’t want to hear an answer you might not like.”
My mother-in-law raised a hand.
“That’s enough. You two can discuss this tomorrow without me. I’ve heard more than enough today.”
She looked at me.
“Lena, I was angry at you this morning. I thought you simply didn’t want to see me and were going to start acting like the great owner everyone has to ask permission from. If I had known Vitya hadn’t spoken to you at all, I would have called you myself first. And I definitely would not have sold the apartment before that conversation.”
“I don’t want you to be left without housing, Lidia Pavlovna. But I also can’t agree to you moving in permanently just because Viktor decided everything in advance.”
She nodded.
“I understand that now. It’s a shame I didn’t understand it before signing the deal.”
Viktor gave a displeased laugh.
“Wonderful. All that’s left is for you two to hug and declare me the main enemy of the family.”
My mother-in-law immediately turned toward him.
“Don’t exaggerate your importance. To become the main enemy of a family, you’d at least need a well-thought-out plan. You simply promised something you didn’t own and got angry when it turned out your promise didn’t work.”
He stared at her.
“Mom, thanks for the support.”
“Support doesn’t mean I have to praise you for doing something stupid. I’m your mother, not an applause section.”
I lowered my eyes to hide an involuntary smile.
Lidia Pavlovna was already buttoning her coat.
“Find a hotel nearby. Not the most expensive one and not on the other side of the city. Tomorrow morning we’ll look at apartments.”
Viktor stood still for several seconds, then opened an app on his phone.
“There’s a hotel ten minutes away. They have a double room available.”
“Book it,” my mother-in-law said. “There’s definitely no need for two separate rooms tonight. I personally want to make sure you don’t make any more decisions behind my back.”
“Very funny, Mom.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
While he completed the booking, I looked at the two suitcases standing against the wall.
An hour earlier, they had been meant to serve as proof that the decision had already been made and it was too late to change anything.
Now Viktor himself took one by the handle.
He pushed the second one toward the door.
Lidia Pavlovna fastened her coat and paused beside the cabinet.
“Lena, is Vitya keeping his apartment keys?”
I looked at my husband.
“Tonight, yes. Tomorrow we’ll discuss separately how we’re going to live until the divorce is finalized and when he’ll collect his things. I’m not going to turn a marital conflict into a suitcase-throwing competition in the course of one evening.”
For the first time in a long while, Viktor didn’t argue.
He lifted his mother’s bag.
Lidia Pavlovna opened the door and stepped onto the landing, but unexpectedly stopped in front of the elevator.
“Vitya, I’m going to tell you one thing. Not as Lena’s mother-in-law, but as your mother.”
He looked at her tiredly.
“Mom, please, no final lecture.”
“Exactly one final lecture. Next time you want to promise something to someone, check two things first: whether it belongs to you, and whether you asked the person it belongs to. Otherwise you’ll end up looking for another hotel.”
Viktor tightened his grip on the suitcase handle.
“Are you finished?”
“For today, yes. I think you’ll have plenty to think about without me.”
The elevator doors opened.
They stepped inside.
Viktor looked back at me over his shoulder, as though he were still waiting for some final word. Maybe a request for him to stay. Maybe an admission that I had overreacted.
I said nothing.
The doors closed.
The folder containing the apartment documents was still lying on the cabinet by the entrance. I had taken it out before they arrived in case the argument completely lost touch with reality.
I never had to open it.
Viktor knew perfectly well who the apartment belonged to.
He had been wrong about something else entirely.
For seven years, he had believed that the strongest word in our marriage was “divorce.”
It turned out that something much stronger was my right to answer it:
“I agree.”